


Clan and Court

by rannadylin



Series: Watcher Violet [3]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Caed Nua, F/M, Family, Fanart, LLF Comment Project, Mystery, dyrford, night market, orlans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-12-30 20:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rannadylin/pseuds/rannadylin
Summary: When an old flame shows up at Caed Nua, Violet and Edér are driven to reconsider what they mean to each other. And to solve a mystery for the Night Market, of course.





	1. Cönyngsdag

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prompt 5 of Pillars Prompts Weekly! And then it got a little carried away with *subplot* so it's...not quite finished in time. More to come as that subplot works itself out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edér arrives at Caed Nua on a mission for the Night Market only to find Violet, the Watcher of Caed Nua and priest of Eothas, surrounded by orlans - one of whom proves to be a reminder of a past she thought she'd left behind.

Caed Nua. Edér couldn’t hold back a grin as he passed through the outer curtain wall into the grounds of the keep and heard the sounds of life all around. Every time he visited, he was struck by the noises that had replaced the wailing of the specters they’d once driven from the ruins: the pounding of hammers from one side or the other as the Steward found yet another corner of the keep for Violet to renovate, the shouts of merchants from the farmers’ market that gathered just inside the walls every Folcsdag, the booming voices of lecturers in the forum, or just the chatter of Vi’s vassals coming to petition the Watcher of Caed Nua for aid.

Seemed like a lot more chatter than usual this month, he noticed as he drew near to the great hall. Not too many kith hanging around out in the yard, though. Still, the din of voices grew, drifting out through the hall’s open door.

Edér stepped inside, straight into the largest gathering of orlans he had ever seen. Feeling out of place and unnecessarily tall, he looked around for the golden curls of the orlan he’d actually come to see, the priest for whom he bore letters from several of the Night Market’s contacts. “’Scuse me, uh, ma’am,” he muttered more than once as he squeezed carefully through the crowd toward the Steward’s dais.

That was where he found Violet, not sitting in her official capacity upon the Steward’s throne but on the edge of the dais itself, leaning in close to another orlan lass with hair nearly the color of Vi’s own, smiling and nodding at what the young woman was saying.

Then the Watcher glanced up, perhaps noticing the sudden hush spreading through the animated crowd at Edér’s passage. Vi brightened and jumped up at the sight of him, rushing down from the dais to meet him in their accustomed embrace.

“Edér! I wasn’t expecting you for another week,” she said, pulling back to look at him and reaching up to smooth a smudge from his armor.

_Something’s come up in Dyrford, and folks need their priest,_ he almost said, but the weight of eyes on the pair of them reminded him that his business for the Night Market wasn’t exactly _official,_ not even exactly _legal_ in the Dyrwood, and who knew what these orlans thought of Eothasians? Except that they clearly thought highly of the one ruling this keep, and had her trust. So he joked instead, “Takes a whole crowd to keep you company when I’m away, huh?”

She laughed, igniting that spot in his chest that always got a happy little bit of heartburn when he could get a laugh from her. “I wasn’t exactly expecting them either, but…” She glanced around and her smile faltered. Just for a moment, but Edér was watching closely, still basking in the warmth of her laughter.

“Friends of yours?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“Oh,” she said with a wry look, “ _most_ of the time.” The golden-haired woman she’d been talking to earlier giggled from back on the dais, and Vi tugged at Edér’s hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the clan.”

“Clan?” he echoed.

“Edér, this is my little sister, Audrisa.”

“Audie, to family,” said the girl, standing up to look Edér over carefully. “And to anyone Violet’s that glad to see.” She punctuated this with a wink. Vi punctuated it with a huff.

“All of this…” Edér looked around. “This is your family, Vi?”

“Some of it,” Violet shrugged.

Edér looked around again, more carefully, eyes widening. “There, uh, more of ‘em coming?”

“Gods, I hope not,” Violet rolled her eyes.

Edér chuckled. “So you weren’t kidding, calling it a clan.”

“No, that was literal.” She waved off his look of confusion. “Explanations later. Introductions now.” And with that, her hand was warm in his, tugging him along again to learn and quickly forget the names of half a dozen more siblings, the spouses of four of those, and at least thirteen of Vi’s nieces and nephews. The way their eyes brightened and their ears perked up when she added, at the end of every introduction, “Edér’s one of us. Eothasian,” put his mind at ease, somewhat, regarding his business for the Night Market. Hard to keep such a secret in so big a family, but he reflected that Vi had brought her faith with her from the Plains, from far away where maybe no one strung you up or even blinked if you happened to follow the god the Dyrwood had killed.

Someone’d better enlighten this clan of hers how things stood in said Dyrwood, then. Edér filed that thought away for later.

Vi was introducing him to her eldest brother, one Garivald, a man barely taller than her, who kept his hair (brown, not golden) shorter than any orlan Edér had yet seen. Garivald seemed a stuffy sort, his eyes frequently drawn to the furnishings of the hall with a frown, as if he found them lacking. Next to him stood a black-haired orlan with wide, almond-shaped eyes, her arm looped possessively around his, which made sense when Vi introduced her as Narusa, her brother’s wife.

Violet was glancing around to point out Garivald’s and Narusa’s five children when suddenly for a moment she froze, her face going pale and with the pinched look of someone whose drink has turned out more bitter than she anticipated. Then again, the moment passed and she was putting on a polite smile, as an orlan man with hair as black and eyes as beautiful as Narusa’s approached. Gold glittered on his fingers and his long ears; his attire, uncommonly dapper, stood him out from the crowd.

“Anselm,” Violet said slowly, in that voice she used for the most frustrating of her petitioners; the placid, soothing Lady of Caed Nua voice that settled ruffled feathers while it betrayed not a hint of her personal feelings. “What a surprise. I didn’t realize you would be visiting with my family.”

“Your sisters-in-law,” Anselm answered in a rich, mellifluous tenor that Edér was inclined to hate at once, “ _are_ my sisters. Despite the past, we are practically family.”

“An interesting definition,” Vi muttered, still smiling. Anselm’s hand came up as if to take hers in greeting, but she was already sidling away, leading Edér along to meet a young man and woman whom Vi introduced as Xipil and Yolotli, the only set of twins among her many siblings.

They weren’t all as stuffy as Garivald or as off-putting as the tag-along Anselm. Edér was relieved to find most of Vi’s family as sweet and open-hearted as the priest herself, each in their own way. An hour passed, two, as they quickly drew him deeper into their friendly chatter. He’d not intended to leave Vi’s side in this crowd, knowing her discomfort at being the center of attention among so many unless it was while delivering a sermon, but as a gaggle of her nieces and nephews clamored for his attention (and turns sitting on his shoulders to see over their kin’s heads, which had quickly become all the rage among the tiny orlan set), he felt her absence somewhere in the second hour.

A quick glance, given his height, was all it took to find her, sitting again on the dais with Audie. As if sensing his own search, she suddenly looked around as well and grinned to see him surrounded by the children. A wave and a nod, a reassuring smile, then she turned back to talking with her sister, and Edér, satisfied, swapped one nephew for the next to soar above the crowd.

* * *

It was already dark by the time this informal soirée broke up. The parents with small children melted away first, until only Violet, Edér, Audie, and a few more of the younger siblings remained. Edér was chatting amiably with the twins when Violet gave a sudden yawn, and halfway through it, covered her mouth in a wide-eyed look of surprise. “Goodness!” she said. “It must be halfway to morning already. There’s just too many of you around to keep track of time!”

Her siblings giggled and, with a few more rounds of goodnights and hugs and good-natured teasing, the last of the guests filtered out of the great hall.

Edér shouldered his travel pack from where he’d stowed it at some point behind the Steward’s throne and turned to go, but Vi caught at his sleeve. “Oh no, wait! I completely forgot. I know we always keep your room ready for you but -- well, so many of them turned up at once -- Brighthollow’s completely full, I’ve even got Audie sharing my room. Do you mind terribly if we make up a bed for you in the barracks, just till they’re all gone?”

“Vi, I’ve slept under the stars often enough when you needed me to,” Edér assured her. “The barracks’ll be great.”

She insisted on helping him make up the bed, though any of the mercenaries hired to defend the keep could have done so, since they were the usual inhabitants of the barracks. Or the maids and such he knew she’d hired somewhere along the years. But Edér was glad to finally have a moment to talk to her alone.

Rummaging through his pack, he found the letters he’d come bearing. “Trouble in Dyrford,” he summed them up as Vi pulled a stack of sheets from a cabinet.

“That’s why you’re visiting a week early,” she gathered.

Edér nodded and helped her unfold a sheet. “Livestock’s been poisoned. At least three farms so far, and as it happens, all three are Eothasian families, regulars at the Night Market.”

Violet frowned, her hands going still in the midst of their task. “A secret grudge? Odd, when no one would blink an eye if an Eothasian is publicly persecuted.”

“Dyrford’s not quite as bad as Gilded Vale,” he reminded her. “But it’s odd all the same, yeah. Could use your help.”

She smiled and returned to tucking the sheet into place. “A mystery to solve? An adventure, for old times’ sake? Another day of hosting the clan, and I’ll be glad to get away from here. I’m in.”

“Aw, I dunno,” Edér smirked. “They seem like fine company. Can’t imagine why you’d want time away.”

“I love them,” Vi said, staring off into the distant corners of the room, “but it’s been five years since I left home and I had forgotten _just how loud…_ ”

“C’mon, Vi, between Hiravias and Kana and sometimes Iselmyr, traveling with all of us was even louder sometimes,” Edér teased.

She glared at him, then frowned in thought. “Well. Maybe sometimes. At least no one’s attacking us, screaming out battle cries.”

“Better’n some families,” he said. “You trust ‘em, though? If we head over to Dyrford and leave them all here, no one’s gonna cause trouble?”

“No more than if I were here,” Vi sighed. “And not enough to worry about either way, honestly. It’ll be fine.”

Edér chuckled, paused, then had to ask: “What about that Anselm guy? He’s...not actually your relation?”

There it was again, that sour surprised-by-lemons look. “No. He truly is not.”

Edér tilted his head, studying her. “There’s a story here, isn’t there?”

She stared him down for half a minute, then sighed and plopped down on the edge of his bed, drawing her heels up under her knees and resting her elbows on them, her hands clasped as if in prayer. “Fine. Sit, Edér. Hear my tale.”

That brought his eyebrows up in surprise. Violet rarely enough talked about her past, and it was mostly fond reminiscences of the big (if noisy) family she’d left behind in the Plains. Edér wasted no time in settling himself next to her on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands as she spoke.

“Anselm was my betrothed.”

Edér sputtered. “You -- your what now? When were you -- I never --”

“Since before I was born, actually.”

He squinted one eye at her skeptically. “Now how’s that supposed to work? You’re not born yet, how d’your parents know who to betroth you to?”

“Well, it was more of an open contract. Family alliances. My family and Anselm’s, they really are more of _clans_. Old families, branches all throughout the community, with all the concerns of property, inheritance, legacy, that sort of thing. Clan Itzli -- that’s us -- and Clan Coatl -- that’s Anselm’s family -- have had business dealings for generations, and every few generations they like to keep it official by arranging a marriage or two. So the terms of the contract were more or less ‘Our next kid, whatever you’ve got that’s suitable, it’s a deal’.”

“That’s…”

Vi grinned ruefully at him. “I know, I know, believe me I do.”

“So you were born and then they picked him out for you?”

“Something like that. Oh, and I wasn’t the first. My two older brothers both married Coatl girls. You remember Narusa, Garivald’s wife?”

“Sure. Resembles your man for sure.”

She frowned. “Not _my_ man, remember.”

“At this point in the story…” Edér grinned. “Your second oldest brother, that’s...which one now?”

“Corbus,” she said. “Evine, his wife, is another of Anselm’s sisters. I don’t think you met her tonight. She’s got a new baby and probably left the party early.”

“So,” Edér wondered, “with two sons already taking care of this marriage alliance thing, what’d they need to betroth _you_ for?”

“That,” said Vi, spreading her hands wide, “is the question of my life.”

“You’re...ah...not _still_ betrothed to him, though, I take it?”

“Oh, no,” Vi said. “See, our two families, we pretty much grew up alongside each other, played together, went to school and church together. And at first it was fine. I knew since I was little that I’d been promised for Anselm, but at that age it was such a far-off destiny it hardly seemed to matter. He was just another kid to play with. As I got older, I tried to go along with it, ready myself to be a proper bride, accept my duty to the family. But...well, he’s just…”

“Not very nice?” Edér guessed.

Vi nodded with a weak smile. “See, you’ve only just met him and you can tell that. Took me years to admit it. He was all right when we were kids, I suppose. Spoiled, though. He’s the youngest. And the only Coatl boy. His parents and his sisters all spoiled him horrendously and every year he got more and more...arrogant, demanding, hard-headed…” She huffed and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “He liked nice things, fancy things, and believed he deserved all of them. And eventually I realized, to him _I_ was just one of those fancy things.”

“Oh, Vi,” Edér murmured. She’d set her hands down again, and he had a sudden urge to reach for the one nearest him. He was contemplating it, her delicate fingers and the faint sheen of golden hair -- fur -- whatever you called it for orlans, lining the back of her hand. As he was wondering whether it would be wholly appropriate to take her hand in the middle of such a tale, and also wondering when he’d stopped seeing things like orlan fur as strange and exotic and started just seeing it as _Vi_ , dear and familiar, she went on and the moment, whatever it was, was lost.

“We were teens, nearly old enough to go ahead with the marriage, and he’d started acting as if...well, as if it were already done. Expecting me to go everywhere with him, arrange my schedule to his liking, wait on him hand and foot. Expecting...um. Well. More, physically, than I was...comfortable with.” Blushing at memories, she crossed her arms in her lap. “So one day I just realized I couldn’t keep going along with it. So. I didn’t.”

“You...didn’t?”

“I confronted him. Broke off the betrothal.”

“You could do that?”

“Questionable.” She grinned. “But I did anyway.”

“Can’t imagine he took that well…”

“Oh, hardly.” She chuckled. “He was furious. All red-faced, shouting and cursing and then begging a little at the end. Which only strengthened my resolve, really. It was a relief to be done with him. Or so I thought at that moment, anyway. Unfortunately, I’d confronted him in the presence of a number of both our kin. It was something of a minor scandal, and then I had my parents pressuring me to take him back and go through with it for the sake of the alliance.” She glanced up at him with the beginnings of a smile. “Wasn’t all terrible, though. I had an uncle serving in the temple who took me in, trained me as an acolyte just to get me out of the firestorm I’d ignited.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine being anything but a priest, now. Especially not being Anselm’s wife instead of who I became when I stopped trying to be that.”

“Priesthood suits you,” Edér agreed.

The beginnings of a smile grew to the smile itself. “Agreed. Anyway, I spent a few years in the temple, but even that didn’t completely shield me from family strife. I thought it’d all blow over, maybe Anselm would settle for one of my sisters, but he wouldn’t, and my parents kept trying to talk me into a change of heart. In the end, the only way to smooth it over was to leave town. Uncle Patli sent me off into the world with letters of introduction to priests he knew in the temples of Eothas throughout Eora.”

“And that’s how you ended up in Gilded Vale,” he grinned down at her.

“That’s how I ended up in a lot of places. And, eventually, Gilded Vale.” And then _she_ was reaching for _his_ hand, and leaning her head, with a contented little sigh, against his arm.

Edér squeezed her hand, so tiny in his. “So...was it worth it? Giving up your home and family, going through the whole Watcher thing, all to end up here, Lady of Caed Nua?”

“Hm.” She gave the question serious consideration. Edér waited, breathing in the scent of her hair. “I suppose,” she said at last, “that’s one good thing about seeing him again. A reminder of the alternative. But you know what? Even without that, yes. It was worth it, Edér.”


	2. Mecwynsdag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The poisonings in Dyrford are a mystery that calls for an expedition to investigate. Garivald's request for this expedition is a bit of a mystery too...

In the morning, over a breakfast that filled up Brighthollow’s table and spilled over into a sort of sunrise picnic on the grounds, Violet read the letters from Dyrford. After the last of them, she sat lost in thought, tapping on the table with a half-eaten scone still clutched in her hand. Eventually she looked up and across the table to see Edér watching her over his porridge, his brow furrowed with concern that faded as soon as she met his eyes. “Wondered if you were still just thinking or you’d gone Watching souls again,” he explained with a grin as he set his bowl down.

“Nothing so drastic,” she assured him. “What a puzzle. Could it be entirely a coincidence that the families targeted are all in the Night Market?”

Edér shrugged. “Could be. Three’s not much of a pattern. Not yet, at least.”

“Well, we could stake out all the rest of the farms connected with us. If we had an army to delegate it to,” she added dryly. “But if it’s not a coincidence, if someone is really targeting them because of their faith, we have to consider how the culprit knows _whom_ to target. These families...Gjegricg, Uescwyn, Heafric...none of them are openly known as worshippers of Eothas. Outsiders with a grudge against Eothasians would not easily know to pick these farms.”

Edér frowned. “Think it’s an inside job?”

“It’s a terrible possiblity. But I can’t think of one that makes any more sense.”

“Well,” he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, “all we can do from here is speculate.”

Violet looked around at her gathered clan and smiled. “So this definitely calls for an expedition. Caed Nua and Clan Itzli will have to manage without us for a few days.”

Just then, Audie materialized at Violet’s side, slipping into the chair next to her. “What’s this, sister? Had enough of us so soon?”

Violet’s fur ruffled as she turned to her sister. “Of course not! It’s just...well, duty calls, and I…”

“And you’ve had enough of us so soon,” Audie grinned from ear to ear. “Not that I blame you. It’s a lot of crazy to catch up on after all those years away. But don’t think you can get away with this, Violy. Like, literally. If you’re off on an adventure, I’m coming with.”

“Audie…” Violet grimaced, laying a hand on her sister’s knee as she prepared to gently disappoint her.

The younger orlan glanced up at Edér and winked. “What do you say, big man? Strength in numbers, no?”

Edér’s eyes flicked from sister to sister. “Look, Audie...that’s nice of you to offer and all, but I dunno if…”

“I could say you’ll need me,” Audie said, turning her gaze back to Violet. “And it’s true, you will. But I won’t. All I’ll say is, Vi-o-letty, I came across all these countries to see my favorite sister who’s been gone for half a decade, and there’s no way I’m wasting a minute of this visit _not_ spending time with you, darling.”

Violet met her stare for half a minute before she broke. “Oh... _fine_ then. Grab your knives and come put yourself in harm’s way with us.”

“That’s all I ask,” Audie beamed, wrapping Violet in a fierce hug before she vanished to, presumably, grab her knives as directed. From across the table, Edér chuckled.

Violet fixed him with an arched eyebrow. “What?”

Edér shrugged. “I think I’m gonna like that one.”

* * *

Violet had hoped to be quietly packed and away by the second hour past breakfast, but word of the impending expedition spread quickly. Garivald hunted her down in her quarters while she and Audie were helping each other into their armor.

“Brother,” she nodded to him.

Garivald returned the nod and began immediately, not looking at her but pacing around her room, picking up objects as if to examine them all the while he spoke to her over his shoulder. “I’m concerned about your intentions,” he said as he turned a pebble of adra between his fingers. “Certainly it is understandable, given your position of responsibility in this community, that you should go to the aid of these people who rely upon you,” he said as he flicked at the edges of a scroll on her shelf.

“That _is_ part of my job description,” Violet said merrily as Audie tightened the straps of her armor.

“Nevertheless,” Garivald went on, “the timing is unfortunate.”

“I know it’s horribly rude of me to wander off when I have company, Gar,” Violet said, adjusting her gloves. “If it were a matter that could wait, I would let it wait.”

“It’s not rudeness that concerns me,” Garivald said, and at that he actually put down the puzzle-box Kana had sent for her last birthday and turned to face his sisters. “I should hate for anything to happen to you, Violet.”

She stared at him, speechless, forgetting to finish lacing her boots. “But I’ve been off on my own for five years now, Gar.”

“And you’ve done admirably for yourself,” he nodded. “However, now that I’m here, I do feel responsible for you. As family,” he added, as if that needed any such explaining.

“Of course,” Violet said, tilting her head in bewilderment.

“I understand that your recent accomplishments have been achieved with the aid of a number of companions, skilled in combat.”

Violet blinked. “I...had friends adventuring with me, yes. Edér, for one, and he’ll be along this time too.”

“Might I advise,” Garivald continued, advancing toward the sisters with his thumbs tucked into his belt, “augmenting your party to a reasonable extent?”

“Take more people with me, you mean?” Violet interpreted.

“Miles ahead of you, Gar,” Audie chimed in cheerfully. “ _I’m_ going too.”

Garivald looked at Audrisa in momentary confusion, just now seeming to notice her armor and the daggers at her waist. “Oh. Well, that’s good.”

“You bet your buckles,” Audie winked.

“Perhaps just three more, then?” Garivald said, looking back to Violet.

“I’m guessing,” Violet said, “you have three particular souls in mind.”

Garivald spread his hands. “The twins are quite capable. _Almost,_ ” and here he returned Audie’s wink, “as capable as Audrisa.”

“Hm,” Audie tapped her chin, then leaned over to grab her brother’s arm and plant a kiss on his cheek. “For that, you can be my favorite for the hour, Gar.”

“Such a delight,” Garivald retorted dryly.

Violet grinned at this exchange and finally nodded. “All right. If they’re willing to go, I don’t mind having Xipil and Yolotli’s aid, certainly. Who’s the third, though?”

“I think,” Garivald said, watching her closely, “you should take Anselm along.”

Violet blinked at her brother, then at her sister. Audie, still gripping Garivald’s arm, now regarded him through narrowed eyes. Whatever scheme this was, Violet guessed her sister was not in on it. “You must be joking,” she said.

Garivald shook his head. “I know you and he are not on the best of terms any more…” At Violet’s raised eyebrow, he put up his hands in a placating gesture. “But he can be useful. I’m not asking you to marry him, or even to befriend him, Violet. Just let him help.”

“Anselm being _helpful,_ ” Violet said slowly, “is not as I recall him.”

“People change,” Garivald said. “I’m certain your temple training featured the concept of redemption?”

“Are you twisting Eothasian doctrine for your own purposes, Gar?” Violet asked, hands on her hips.

Garivald met her stare staunchly. “Am I?”

In the openness of his unexpected appeal, Violet was forced to take the question seriously. Distancing herself from the bitter past, considering the sacred writings she had studied since first entering the temple under her uncle’s tutelage, pondering the problem of Anselm in the light of the sermons she had heard from priests across Eora since embarking on her journeys, and not a few sermons she had delivered herself in the tiny chapel she had built to her god beneath Caed Nua, she had to admit Gar had a point. What use was following a god of redemption and light if in your heart of hearts you were going to jam some people into a little “irredeemable” box and never give them a chance to come out under the sun?

“Fine,” she relented at last. “Anselm can come. But he’ll be on his best behavior. He gives me _any_ reason to doubt him, and he’s walking home. To _Ixamitl_ , not to Caed Nua.”

Garivald favored her with a broad smile of satisfaction. “I’m certain your terms will be agreeable to him.”

* * *

In the courtyard of Caed Nua, Violet looked over her hastily and unexpectedly assembled team.

Edér, as always, was her rock and her shield. He stood off to the side a bit, looking faintly bemused in the presence of so many orlans, but she’d seen him exchanging winks with Audie more than once since breakfast and, no surprise, he was completely taken with Xipil’s companion hound, Yaotl. The dog, standing nearly as tall as his own master, had not yet decided what to make of the big human hanging around and was strategically positioning himself between Edér and Violet’s brother.

Xipil himself, his hair as curly as Violet’s but kept short and tending more to a light brown, stood counting his arrows, checking their fletching, and smirking at the little drama playing out between his dog and his big sister’s tall friend. He wouldn’t have much to say, but Violet looked forward to all that her brother’s meaningful looks could convey.

And what Xipil neglected to say, his twin Yolotli would announce on his behalf. Somehow, in the brief time since learning the purpose of their mission, she’d managed to scrounge up several scrolls and tomes on the effects of numerous poisons. Violet couldn’t say for sure whether Yolotli had done this research in Caed Nua’s library or in her own heavy luggage; well-versed in all sorts of esoteric lore, she would surprise none of the clan by happening to have brought a small library on _any_ topic with her.

At this moment, Yolotli was tugging at her braids and bubbling over with the firstfruits of her recent research, and Audrisa was the lucky soul into whom she was pouring the excess of her knowledge. Audie, far from being annoyed, grinned and filled Yolotli in with her own first-hand knowledge of poisons suitable for blade’s edge.

And lastly, off to the side _opposite_ Edér’s position, there was Anselm. Dark-haired among all these fair-headed Itzli siblings, he stood silent, regarding them all with a calculating expression. Garivald had, with admirable circumlocution, managed to avoid specifying just what _useful_ skills Anselm would bring to the expedition. So Violet watched him out of the corner of her eye, seeking clues. He carried a fine sword -- a Coatl family heirloom, she’d guess. He wore padded armor in his family colors of red and gold. A dark brown cloak concealed any other hint.

She set aside her curiosity for the moment and addressed them. “All right, then. It’s more than a day’s march to Dyrford. Let’s make haste while the sun shines.”


	3. Folcsdag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet and companions reach Dyrford and begin their investigations. They learn a little about the poisonings and a little more about Anselm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, a chapter 3 that's about as long as chapters 1 and 2 combined! The subplot is having a heyday here and I'm loving it. Hope you will too. <3

They reached Dyrford late the next morning. In the hours on the road, Edér learned that Audie’s sharp eyes missed nothing but that her sharp tongue barely concealed a fierce protectiveness toward all her siblings; that Xipil’s hound was fanatical about rabbit jerky (thanks to Xipil quietly pressing a wad of the meat into Edér’s hand and nodding toward the dog, collaborating in Edér’s thus far fruitless attempts to win Yaotl’s affection); that Yolotli must be some sort of soul twin to Kana Rua, the way she took in every sight on the road with such delight and had apparently never grown out of the question-laden stages of early childhood. She soon gravitated toward Edér, skipping to keep up with his longer steps, her braids bouncing over her shoulders, till he caught on and shortened his stride for her. Far from naive, her questions about the landscape, the flora, the fauna, the peoples of the Dyrwood, their beliefs, their customs, their clothes, their cuisine, and every other topic that crossed her mind revealed a quick intelligence, handily assimilating and comparing his answers with what she already knew of other lands.

Questions about Edér himself came, instead, from Audie. Nor did they come immediately. For the first day, she kept a watchful eye on him but interacted mainly with her siblings. When they broke camp the next morning, though, she soon fell back to walk with Edér at the rear of the party, where he’d been keeping a curious eye on all the orlans.

“You know, big man,” she said, keeping up with his stride without apparent effort even before he remembered to slow down, “I’ve been looking forward to actually meeting you.”

Edér’s stride stuttered mid-step as he processed this. “How’s that?”

“Violet mentioned you in her letters, naturally.” And she looked up at him with a smirk that he couldn’t quite interpret.

“Oh. Guess that...makes sense? All good, I hope.”

“Depends on how you mean that. Me, I was hoping for more embarrassing stories to hold against you, but Vi’s too nice for that.”

“Ha! Wait... _more_ embarrassing stories? Like, more than _none_ or…”

“Don’t worry. Even the embarrassing ones were quite affectionate.”

This left Edér at a loss for words. He scratched at his beard and looked at Audie out of the corner of one eye until she piped up again.

“So you don’t actually live at Caed Nua, then?”

“Nah, not all the time, anyway. Got a room in Brighthollow for when I do stop by, on Night Market business or just to see Vi. Apparently your brother Nico’s family is occupying it right now.”

“Oh, _that_ one.” Audie glanced at him, a shrewd glint in her eye. “So outside of Caed Nua, where do you call home? Vi said you met in a place called Gilded Vale.”

“Haven’t called that home for a while now,” he nodded. “Fact is,” he lowered his voice, “I owe your sister a lot for getting me away from that place. Probably wouldn’t still be around if not for her.”

Audie’s look softened to a smile. “She does tend to have that effect.”

“Right? I mean, I could point out half a dozen people’s lives she basically saved, or at least set on a better course than before, and that’s just the ones she traveled with back when we were fixing Waidwen’s Legacy, not to mention all the random people she helped ‘long the way, or the Eothasian folks we’re looking out for these days, or everyone who looks to Caed Nua for help of any sort.”

“You’re a fan, I see,” Audie grinned.

Edér felt an unaccustomed warmth to his cheeks and looked away. “Yeah...guess so. Proud to call her a friend.”

“Me too,” Audie said, her voice warm even as she jabbed Edér in the side with a friendly elbow of solidarity. He yelped, more from surprise than anything -- it was much the sort of sibling rough-and-tumble he’d once been used to, but that was years ago and he was hardly expecting it from Violet’s sibling. And yet...it was nice. He traded companionable smirks with her as she continued, “So you must live in Dyrford, then?”

“Most of the time,” he said. “Found work on a farm there. Keeps me busy and keeps me in contact with folks who need us. Night Market’s growing fastest in Dyrford of anywhere. I run a lot of messages, though, to Vi or to our folks in Defiance Bay, so don’t know if I’d call Dyrford home. I’m on the road most of the time.”

“Your farm, was it one of the ones that got poisoned?”

Edér nodded. “Then when we heard about the others, Gjegricg -- it’s his farm I work on -- realized it was only happening to Eothasians. He and the others wrote Vi for help, and here I am.”

“Because she’s a priest?”

“Only priest of Eothas left in these parts. And because she’s damn good at sorting out trouble,” Edér grinned.

“That,” Audie said with a toothy smile, “runs in the family.”

* * *

The Itzli siblings were open books, however, compared to Anselm Coatl. Edér made sure to always keep an eye on that one, but Anselm seemed determined to keep to himself throughout the first day’s march. He walked towards the front of the group, near Violet but not too near. Though the day was warm, he kept the hood of his cloak up so that Edér, walking at the back of the group where he could watch them all, deduced little from his body language or expressions. He spoke seldom, and mostly in response to Vi’s infrequent questions. He followed her instructions without question or hesitation. Anselm seemed to be on his best behavior, and this only made Edér all the more suspicious. He whiled away the hours, whenever Yolotli or Audie had paused to think of more questions, by imagining malcachoa slipped into Anselm’s tea, lizards slipped into his bedroll, and the like. Until a significant look from Vi made Edér think that she had guessed the nature of his thoughts and would have none of it. So he subsided, doing his best to ignore the interloper.

And then, late the next morning, they reached Dyrford. Vi led the way through the village amidst the stares of townsfolk who first glared at the sight of five orlans, then, recognizing the Watcher of Caed Nua among them, changed their demeanor entirely. They might be unaware how great a role Violet had had in the ending of Waidwen’s Legacy, but they knew how much she had helped in their lesser complaints. A gauntlet of smiles and greetings shepherded them through the town. They stopped off at the Dracogen Inn to quench the thirst of the long road and to observe the locals, as a prelude to a more focused inquiry and investigation. As far as Edér could tell, the mood of the village was no different than usual. The poisonings had affected only a few families thus far, miles out from the village on the outlying farms. In Dyrford Village, life went on as usual. With any luck, Vi would have the problem solved quickly enough that that need not change.

Refreshed, the party continued their march out to the first of the farms. Wilfrith Gjegricg, Edér’s employer, played host every Godandag to a small gathering of Eothasians in his cellars -- or rather, in the catacombs adjoining them. Like so much of Dyrford Village and its outlying lands, the Gjegricg farm was built partly atop and among the ruins of settlers from ages ago, and a warren of underground tunnels and neatly bricked hallways, not unlike those beneath Caed Nua, or more like those once used by the cult of Skaen operating in Dyrford, could be accessed through a hidden door in the farmhouse’s underground pantry. Gjegricg had set up a neat little round chamber not far from his cellar with the altar and candles and all that Eothasian ritual required. When Edér had first introduced him to Violet, bona fide priest of the shattered god, and she had honored him with rites to consecrate his little chapel, Gjegricg had wept for joy and then obliged them to feast till they could barely move on the firstfruits of his farm.

Now, as they approached the farmhouse, they heard the reverberating _chunk-and-clatter_ of an axe splitting logs. The other orlans hung back as Violet and Edér walked up to the gate. At Edér’s holler, the farmer himself emerged from around the side of the house, stripped to the waist and wiping from his brow the sweat of his labor. Gjegricg was a big man, portly but well muscled from years of honest labor. He beamed to see the party approaching. “Ah, Edér! It’s good to see you back, lad. And milady!” He sketched a clumsy bow toward Violet.

“None of that, Wilfrith,” she insisted, flustered.

“Well, it’s always good to see you, Miz Violet,” Gjegricg amended. “Especially in these troubled times.”

“That’s what we’re here about, of course,” Violet continued. “I intend to get to the bottom of these poisonings.”

“Be appreciative if you can, Miz Violet. ‘Twas a lean enough winter already. My family, we’ll manage and with enough to spare for the others as was hardest hit, but it’ll be trouble if this keeps going on.”

“Of course,” Violet said. “Now, I wonder if we might take a look at the pig-sty? I understand it was your pigs targeted first?”

“Just so,” Gjegricg nodded, beckoning them toward the small shelter off in the corner of the yard, with a fenced-in run now quite empty of the animals normally to be found in it. His eyes widened as Violet’s companions caught up to her. “Well, I’ll be...How many o’ ye are there?”

“Here?” Violet asked, deadpan. “Or in general?” At Edér’s chuckle, she shook her head. “Never mind. Wilfrith, these are family and...an acquaintance of mine, from back home in Ixamitl. My sisters, Audrisa and Yolotli; my brother Xipil; and this is Anselm. We thought it best to bring a few people to help in the investigation, and it so happened they recently came to visit me.”

Gjegricg nodded at the orlans. “A friend or kin o’ Miz Violet is a friend o’ mine. Apologies if I, ah, seem rude or anything. Never seen so many orlans at once.”

“You should see Caed Nua,” Violet said, still deadpan, and turned toward the empty pig-sty. A human boy of some twelve or thirteen years was currently coming out of the little pig-house, wearing a scowl and hoisting a bucket of soapy but now filthy water. “Eadric,” Violet favored him with a smile. “Helping your father clean up?”

Eadric grumbled something under his breath. Gjegricg cleared his throat. “Now, son,” he began. “Be gracious. The priest’s here to help get to the bottom of this.”

More audibly this time, Eadric grumbled a “Sorry,” then shuffled past them toward the house.

Gjegricg sighed as he watched the boy go. “I won’t ask ye to excuse him, Miz Violet,” he said. “But Eadric’s just not been the same since this all began. Well, really, since a week or so before. He got into a bit of a scrape, wandering into the ruins with some friends o’ his. Scared him right shitless, and more’s the better for that if it keeps him outta that sort o’ trouble. Thought he’d be over it by now, but then the pigs died and he’s had to help me deal with all that, especially with Edér off to fetch you.”

Edér chuckled. “So I’m missing out on scrubbing out the pig-sty? Courier work has its appeal, for sure.”

Their orlan companions had taken Eadric’s place inside the pig-sty while Violet and Edér spoke with the farmer. Poking her head out and brushing hair from her eyes, Audie frowned at them. “Vi, I hope all this cleaning hasn’t erased evidence we could have used.”

Gjegricg blanched at her words. “Oh, no, I -- do ye think so? Gods, I hadn’t thought o’ that. It’s just, you see, we wanted to bring in new pigs soon as we could, and I didn’t think it’d be safe to keep ‘em in the same pen if’n some trace of the poison was still around. Been scrubbing the sty and replacing the top soil in the run for days now. Rumbald’s sending up a few of his herd tomorrow and we’ve got to have the place ready.”

“Quite understandable,” Violet soothed. “If any evidence has been washed away, I suppose there’s nothing for it now. We’ll see what we can find all the same. You inspected their trough, I’m sure?”

“Aye, and saved what was left o’ their slop.”

“We’ll take a look at that,” Violet nodded. “What about the trough itself?”

“Planned to burn it,” Gjegricg said, brightening, “but hadn’t got around to that yet. Think you’d learn anything from it?”

Violet smiled. “Let’s go and find out.”

* * *

While Violet was inspecting the trough -- still filthy with the remains of the pigs’ slop from their fateful last day -- Anselm approached. She glanced up and restrained herself from reacting, managing only a bland smile. But it seemed her once-betrothed was all business at the moment. He ran a finger thoughtfully along the trough’s wooden edges. “Safe to assume this was where the poison was introduced?” he asked.

“Seems likely,” Violet nodded. “There’s an alchemist in the village. We’ll see if she can identify anything poisonous in the leftovers.”

“Excellent,” Anselm nodded, swiping a film of grease from the inside of the trough and holding it to his nose with a critical expression.

“Careful,” Violet said. “Could still retain the poison.”

“I’m not planning to _eat_ it,” he huffed. “I’d say it certainly smells off, but I have a feeling it would do so even without being poisoned.”

Violet laughed despite herself. Seeing the hungry and hopeful look kindled in Anselm’s eyes at her reaction, she reined it in and stepped back from the trough. “Guess the pigs never knew the difference, then.”

* * *

Tucking a jar of the suspect slop into a pouch, Violet led the way to the next farm. Bannen Uescwyn raised sheep, or had until recently. While the mysterious poisoner had targeted only the pigs on the Gjegricg farm, leaving behind perfectly healthy cattle as well as the crops, Uescwyn’s entire flock of sheep, all of his livelihood, had been slain. Even his faithful old sheepdog had fallen stone-dead after crawling back to his master with a whine of mortal distress to alert him to the flock lying poisoned in the pasture.

“Folk’re looking after us,” Uescwyn assured Violet when she expressed her sympathies. “Even with the church abandoned all these years, Eothas’ folk take care of our own. Gjegricg’s offered me work till I get back on me own feet, even after he lost his pigs too. I’m appreciative, but I do miss me lambs.”

“Of course,” Violet said. “Any idea how they were poisoned? Do they eat from a common manger, or any such thing?”

“Oh, nay, m’lady,” said Uescwyn. “They graze in the pasture and I water ‘em in the stream.”

So the party marched out to inspect the pasture and the stream. They combed the long grasses for hours without any sign of the poison. Violet was about ready to admit the pointlessness of their search when Xipil’s hound sent up a howl from a far corner of the pasture. Xipil caught up with Yaotl, bent to inspect the ground, and then waved frantically to the rest of the party.

Violet reached her brother two steps before Edér and two steps after Anselm. Xipil shrugged at her as Anselm bent to pick up what Yaotl had found: a handful of small, red berries.

Violet leaned in for a closer look. “Wait,” she said. “These look familiar. Edér? These aren’t native to the Dyrwood, are they?”

Edér crouched down to orlan level to join the inspection. “Mm. Nah, nothing like that grows ‘round here. But -- no, I got it. We’ve seen ‘em before, out in the White March, Vi.”

“Ah!” Violet brightened. “I knew they were familiar. Rin- Ryg-”

“Ryngr berries!” Yolotli corrected her, brightening as she saw an opportunity to put her research to use. “I read about them. They’re very hardy, so I’m not surprised you saw them in the White March. Not necessarily poisonous, but very bitter, and toxic in large quantities.”

“Toxic enough to kill off a whole flock of sheep?” Violet wondered.

“ _Something_ was enough,” Anselm pointed out, slipping the berries into his own pouch and frowning as he glanced back in the direction they had come, toward the Gjegricg farm. “Perhaps your alchemist will be able to identify if the pigs’ feed contained traces of these.”

“However many it’d take to kill off sheep,” Edér said, frowning at Anselm’s pouch of murderous berries, “those didn’t grow here naturally. Maybe our culprit’s recently come from the White March.”

Yolotli thought for a moment, then gasped. “I remember now. They’re used in dye -- red dye from the red berries.”

Violet exchanged a look with Edér. “Maybe we’ll have to pay the currier a visit after the alchemist.”

* * *

Before any visits to Dyrford Village, however, they had one more farm to investigate. According to the letters, Osgar Heafric had lost half his cattle, including a dozen new calves, to the poison. But as they were marching the last mile from the sheep pastures to Heafric’s farm, Xipil, now walking at the front of the group, suddenly stopped and looked around. The rest of them stopped to watch him. Audie started to speak, but Xipil put a finger to his mouth -- and then a hand to his bow, with a whisper of “Ambush!”

And he was right. No sooner had he put an arrow to his bowstring, while the rest of the party scrambled for their own weapons, than a _whoosh_ familiar to Violet and Edér after months spent traveling with a wizard alerted them to the fireball moments before it impacted. “Take cover!” Vi shouted, and the party scattered towards the edges of the road, but too late: though they evaded the worst of the sudden explosion, every one of them suffered some burns. Then the attackers were upon them. Besides whoever had cast that fireball, two thugs with swords bore down upon them and a hail of arrows flew in from both sides of the road.

Violet kept near the center of her party, quckly calling on the power of her faith to shield her allies from the brunt of the attack and to refresh them after the initial damage. Edér waded into the fray, catching arrows on his shield and keeping the attackers away from the orlans. At least -- most of the orlans. While Yolotli began chanting an invocation and Xipil took aim against a distant archer, Audie slipped into the shadows, only to reappear behind the thug Edér was now dealing with, her knives buried convincingly in the man’s sides. And Anselm drew his heirloom sword and stepped right up beside Edér, timing his strikes to coordinate surprisingly well with their human ally’s. Violet gasped, momentarily pausing in her own battle prayers, to see the eerie purple light that coalesced around Anselm’s blade. After that, however, it came as no surprise when one of the enemy archers suddenly turned his arrows on his own allies, while Anselm grimaced in concentration, until finally the charmed archer was the last of the attackers left standing and one of Audie’s knives finished him off.

They made camp after that. The battle had not lasted all that long, but had left them in need of rest and recovery. Xipil scouted out a clearing within the woods not far from the road, safe from prying eyes at least for a moment. Edér dragged the bodies of their foes out of the road, to be searched and disposed of once the needs of the living were seen to. Violet went around tending to the worst of her companions’ wounds. Besides the burns from that opening fireball, they were in fairly decent shape. Edér was fine, of course; he rarely needed her attentions after a fight, but she made sure he rubbed some salve on the burns nonetheless. Audie and Xipil had some minor scratches and bruises, which they insisted on tending to themselves, pointing her to their sister Yolotli, grazed by an arrow that left a deep gouge in her cheek and one ear. The poor girl seemed much more distraught about the braid it had sliced off in the process, but bore Violet’s ministrations with good cheer all the same.

And then Violet came to Anselm. Remorse for having put off dealing with him till the last struck her at the sight of blood oozing between his fingers as he clasped a hand to his side.

“You’re hurt!” she gasped. “I mean, _seriously_ hurt!”

“A little,” he admitted with a hesitant smile.

“If you’re trying to impress me with heroics, you can stop right now,” she scolded, motioning him to sit down on a nearby rock so she could take a look at the wound.

Anselm gave a rueful laugh, then winced as she started cleaning the wound. “I promise, that was not my intention. That...could have gone better.”

“Could’ve gone much worse, too,” Violet said. “Seems we...we all make a pretty good team.”

“Thank you, Violet,” he said quietly, “for including me on it.”

“Keep getting hurt like this and you’ll stop thanking me,” she said with forced cheer. “Also. That soul whip…”

Anselm blanched. “Ah. You noticed.”

“You charmed an archer, too.”

“It was necessary. He was the one that shot Yolotli.”

“No argument here. It was well done, Anselm. Been a while since I traveled with a cipher, but I know the signs. And I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before. It explains so much. Why didn’t you tell me you were a cipher to begin with?”

Anselm’s gaze fell. “I...had hoped not to let that fact color your judgment of me. Most people are not very trusting of my kind.”

Violet shrugged. “Same goes for Watchers, in these parts. Garivald was right about you making yourself useful on this expedition, though. I owe you an apology.”

Anselm regarded her hopefully. “For…?”

“Gar was so evasive about just _what_ your ‘useful skills’ were, I figured they just weren’t all that useful at all. I suppose he didn’t want this coloring my judgment, either.”

“Just so.” Anselm nodded. “Whatever he thinks of me, he would like to see you back home with the clan in the life your parents planned for you.”

Violet narrowed her eyes as she finished binding his wound. “Garivald is hoping that if I marry you I’ll come back to Ixamitl?”

“In Garivald’s mind,” Anselm said, “one duty leads to another.”

“Are you saying that as a cipher?” Violet grinned. “Or just as someone who knows him well? Because that is exactly how Gar’s mind works.”

Anselm shook his head. “As one who knows him. I would not presume, nor wish, to delve too deeply into your brother’s mind.”

Violet grew still and quiet for a moment, then moved to crouch directly in front of her patient, meeting his gaze directly and catching his hands in a firm grip. “And what about my mind? Do you intend to win me back by bending my soul to your will?”

“No,” Anselm said immediately, fervently, holding her gaze. “I promise you, I will have you by your own will or none at all. Although, while I will not attempt to charm you as a cipher, I certainly hope to charm you as a _man_.” And for a moment, the subdued, on-his-best-behavior mask gave way to a mad grin that almost reminded her of the Anselm she had once been pleased to be betrothed to. Almost.

“Hm,” Violet huffed, standing and starting toward the bodies in need of searching. “Well, don’t expect much. And stop it with the heroics,” she flung back over her shoulder. “Can’t marry a dead man.”

* * *

Finding no hint on the bodies of their motive or employer, they set fire to them and finally moved on toward the farm. The smell of fresh manure soon alerted them to the proximity of their destination. Edér chuckled at the visiting orlans’ expressions. “Welcome to the country, everyone!” he said, arms spread wide.

“Maybe they poisoned them for the smell,” Audie grumbled.

“Counterproductive,” Edér argued. “Corpses would smell even worse.”

Osgar Heafric, a wiry man missing most of his hair and a few teeth, glumly showed them his dairy barn, now nearly empty. A few cows stood ready for milking, though Violet wondered if even the surviving cows’ milk might still be contaminated by the poison. Out in his pastures, another ten or so cows remained, bereft of their calves.

“Lucky so many of the girls survived,” Heafric shrugged. “I’ll get by. Bull’s fine, too, or s’pose I’d have to ask Gjegricg for the loan of his.”

Violet asked the usual questions about the animals’ food and water supplies and left with a sample of the hay the cattle fed on to supplement what they could graze at pasture and another of recently collected milk, in case the poison were indeed still in the cows’ systems. Full of questions, and clues for Hendyna to interpret, the weary party finally made their way back to Dyrford Village and the comforts of Dracogen Inn.

In the middle of the night, Edér woke suddenly to the silence of the room he shared with Anselm and Xipil, the memory of whatever sound had wakened him already fading. The orlans still slept soundly while Edér crept to the door and peeked out into the hall.

Violet was looking back at him from the door of the room she shared with her sisters, wide-eyed and fresh from bed herself, judging by the tousled mess of her hair. Edér grinned at her and whispered, “You hear that too?”

“I heard something,” she whispered back. “Someone was at the door, I think.”

“Think our poisoner came to confess?”

“That’d be nice,” she sighed. With a glance back into the room where her sisters were presumably still as sound asleep as the male orlans, she stepped out into the hall and sat down against the wall between their doors. Edér joined her. They sat in silence for several minutes, watching both ends of the hall for movement, listening for any sound of their supposed intruder. But the night remained still.

“Guess whoever it was heard us get up and chickened out,” Edér whispered.

“Guess so. We’ll catch them in the morning, though.”

“Hey, Vi,” Edér said before she could get up again. “You, ah...you all right?”

“Me?” She looked at him, wrinkling her brow in question.

“Family’s one thing, on a job like this, but Anselm’s not giving you trouble, is he? If he is, you just say the word…”

“Oh, that,” Vi chuckled quietly. “No, Edér, it’s fine. He’s...being a perfect gentleman. Not as I remember him, but it’s a change I could get used to.” Edér shifted in his seat at that; Vi looked over at him as the implication of her words suddenly hit her. “Not like that! I mean...I’ve made it clear, I hope, that his suit is pointless. But still. It’s nice to see that he’s not quite as vile as I remembered.”

“Think he’s really changed that much?” Edér asked. “Or just showing you what you want to see?”

Vi shrugged. “I think he’ll have plenty of opportunity to prove himself one way or another on this trip. And so far, I’m...pleasantly surprised.”

“Well,” Edér said, reaching over to pat her hand encouragingly, “if that changes, if you have any problems with him, I’ve got your back, Vi.”

“I know, dear,” she smiled up at him. “I know.”


	4. Rytlingsdag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet's investigations lead her team to the culprit who poisoned Dyrford's livestock - and to a better understanding of Anselm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus with this chapter: My amateur art! :-) I've never done Inktober and am horribly out of practice with art that is neither text nor textile, but I wanted to give it a try this year. So I've decided to draw some illustrations for my stories, starting with this scene from the opening of chapter four which I have entitled "Five Orlans Plus Edér Walk Into an Alchemist's Shop/Cart." It's very, horribly amateur, but it did make me smile. I'm planning to go back to the previous chapters and draw more such scenes each day this month, plus of course for chapter five once I finish writing it. You can find them posted at rannadylin.tumblr.com (and probably eventually added to the past chapters here, too).

As soon as the sun and the village of Dyrford were up for business, Violet and her companions began their day’s inquiries at Hendyna’s apothecary cart. The alchemist greeted Violet warmly, noted the traces of the burns they had all suffered in the previous day’s fight, and sympathetically asked if they’d been fighting drakes again.

“Just a wizard, I’m afraid,” Violet said.

“Almost as bad!” Hendyna said. She glanced around the group of orlans-plus-Edér. “Don’t think I know most of your friends here, Violet. Well, besides Edér, of course. Hi, Edér!”

Edér grinned and waved as Violet introduced the orlans. Then Audie stepped forward. “Say I needed to mix up a poison for my blades. You sell anything like that?”

Hendyna’s face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry. Normally I’d suggest a tincture of Berath’s Bell for that, but I’m fresh out.”

Violet exchanged a glance with Audie. “Someone bought it all? Or is poison just in high demand lately?”

“That’s the thing,” Hendyna said, spreading her hands. “No one bought it. I thought I had a decent stock of it along with all the other plants, but a few days back someone came asking for it to prepare a rat poison and I found the jar was just empty. Been meaning to gather some more, but there’s not much of it in bloom yet this early in the season.”

Anselm stepped forward with a polite little cough. “Do you have that jar handy, where I might take a look at it?”

“The thing is,” Violet explained with a sigh when Hendyna met his request with an odd look, “we’re investigating the poisoning of several farmers’ livestock.”

Hendyna gasped. “Really? That’s -- I mean, you don’t think that _I_ \--”

“No, no,” Violet assured her, “but if we could trace who emptied that jar, we might find our culprit.”

“Oh, by all means!” Hendyna said, rummaging on the shelves behind her and handing a large ceramic jar to Anselm.

While he was inspecting the empty jar, Violet brought out from her pouch the jar of pig slop she’d collected at Gjegricg’s farm, followed by the samples of hay and milk from Heafric’s dairy farm. “Hendyna, any chance you could also tell us if this has any trace of Berath’s Bell in it? Or any other poison, of course.”

Hendyna took the slop-jar gingerly, wrinkling her nose at the liquefying scraps of food inside. “Well, I suppose I could...run some tests? Might be easier just to feed it to a chicken you don’t particularly like.”

“Sounds like a great backup plan,” Violet smiled.

* * *

 

The curriery was just around the corner from Hendyna’s shop. While the alchemist was testing the samples Violet had taken from the farms, the investigative team paid a visit to Lafric, who had replaced Trygil as currier when the cult of Skaen, thanks to a certain Watcher’s meddling, ceased to operate in the village of Dyrford. Lafric was a pale, sickly-looking man who trembled at the sight of five orlans at his door. But recognizing Violet and Edér, he waved them in to look at the dye vats, though he kept his distance, nervously wringing his hands the whole time.

“Lovely colors,” Violet attempted to put him at ease with a smile. Lafric blushed as pink as if he’d fallen in a vat himself and nodded. “The red dye there,” she attempted again. “Do you use ryngr berries for that one?”

“Oh, yes, mum,” said Lafric. “Won’t fade like other reds.”

“Excellent,” said Violet.

“Cost ye extra, though,” Lafric said, his voice dropping to near-inaudible at having to deliver this ill news. “Have it brought in special from Stalwart. And I’m near out o’ berries now.”

Violet’s ears perked up. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Lafric shrugged. “Caravan was set on by bandits, last shipment I had coming. Wael knows what became o’ me berries.”

Violet grinned. “Think you could point us in the direction of that caravan’s last stand?”

* * *

 

Anselm pursed his lips in concentration as he turned a fragment of a wooden crate between his hands. Little enough remained where the currier’s delivery had been hijacked. The bandits had apparently made off with everything of value. But a handful of vibrant red ryngr berries in the wheel-ruts had confirmed that they had the right broken-down wagon, at least.

“I don’t suppose we’ll find much here,” Violet sighed, after half an hour of frustrated searching. “The bandits might or might not even be connected with our poisoner. They might have left the berries behind, and our culprit just happened across the remains of the fight and realized the berries were poisonous. Maybe?”

“Trail’s cold by now, either way,” Edér agreed. “The Berath’s Bell seems likelier. Wouldn’t take as much of it to kill an animal, anyway.”

“Maybe they tried the ryngr berries first,” Yolotli suggested. “Maybe some animals got a little sick, and when that wasn’t enough, the poisoner stole the Berath’s Bell too.”

“That still doesn’t point us to _who_ did all this,” Violet reminded them. “All right, come on, everyone. Let’s go back to town and see what Hendyna’s learned.”

“Wait,” Anselm called to her. Violet paused midstep, turning to him with a questioning frown. He approached her with both hands held out, a few of the red berries in each. “I...may have something, Violet.”

She brightened, her ears twitching in hope. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

“You said that you’re familiar with...my abilities.”

“Oh.” She nodded, and met his eyes. It struck her, for a moment, that he seemed shorter than she had recalled him. Objectively, he still had an inch or two on her, and always had, and yet somehow it felt odd to be so near his own eye level. She blinked to clear her thoughts; _back to the matter at hand, Violet._ “Yes, a little. I traveled with a cipher. She was...not typical even for her kind, though, I think. It was all very confusing.”

Anselm smiled. “It often is, even to us. The thing is, I can interact with souls -- not like you can, at least from what I’ve heard of Watchers. Just housed souls, in living bodies.”

Violet tilted her head. “Okay.”

“But souls have...a certain flavor about them, if you will. Identifying features. Enough so that sometimes I can trace where a person has been, or what they have touched, by the print of their soul there.”

Violet’s eyes widened. “Oh! Like the ciphers of Dunryd Row.” At Anselm’s confused look, she explained, “They were a secret police of sorts, in Defiance Bay. Most were killed in the riots after the animancy hearings, but they used to be excellent at investigating all sorts of --” She stopped as her thoughts caught up with her. “Ah. I see. As are you.”

Anselm nodded. The corners of his lips tilted up in a proud smile as he admitted, “I’ve had a bit of practice in recent years. Since I became aware of my abilities as a cipher, I’ve tried to put them to good use. I’ve helped Garivald get to the bottom of a few crimes back home. It’s very invigorating, and…” he shrugged. “I know I was often quite an ass, when I was younger. I’ve a lot of time to redeem.”

To this, Violet had no response, staring at him agape as she struggled to reconcile the Anselm she had once renounced with the one Garivald had, apparently for quite good reason, recommended for her expedition. At her prolonged silence, Anselm finally dropped his gaze, with an awkward chuckle, to the berries in his hands. “So, anyway. These,” he lifted his right hand, “are the ones I picked up in the sheep pasture. The others,” his left hand, “from the caravan here. They have some similar soul-signatures clinging to them. Not necessarily our poisoner, but perhaps someone who handled them earlier -- gathering, packing, shipping. So at least we can safely assume the berries in the pasture came from this shipment.”

Violet closed her mouth and nodded. “Right. I mean, I don’t know where else any ryngr berries in the area could have come from, but -- that’s good. Good to know. But we still don’t know who, do we?”

Anselm frowned. “Maybe we do. But I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“There’s not much about this mystery I do like.”

“Of course,” he grinned. “I’m not so sure about the berries -- our poisoner may have never handled them himself, considering it was apparently a party of bandits that attacked the caravan. But I’ve sensed one soul over and over in other places. On the pig trough. In the dairy barn. On Hendyna’s empty jar.”

Violet gasped at this revelation. “You know? Can you trace it -- do you know whose soul?”

“Not precisely. But the same aura was strong all over the first farm we visited.”

“Gjegricg?” Violet frowned. “But he was the first one poisoned.”

Anselm shrugged. “Losing only a few pigs, none of his larger livestock. And he himself admitted his family will not be beggared by the loss.”

“They’re even replacing the pigs already,” Violet recalled with a sinking feeling.

“Just in time to have all the proper evidence in the pig-sty washed away before your visit,” Anselm added.

“Oh, I do hope we’re wrong,” Violet sighed. “Gjegricg is such a _good_ man. Finding him responsible would almost be a worse blow than the poisonings themselves.”

“Never known you to shy from the truth,” Anselm pointed out, with a grin and an arched eyebrow.

Violet huffed and tossed her hair, turning to begin the walk back to the village. “Hardly. But this investigation isn’t closed yet. Let’s go see what Hendyna found.”

* * *

 

“It’s certainly been poisoned,” Hendyna reported in an energetic whisper as the orlans-plus-Edér gathered once more around her cart.

“With Berath’s Bell?” Yolotli asked, leaning up eagerly for a closer look at the jar Hendyna was holding.

Hendyna nodded slowly. “Probably. I mean, Berath’s Bell has a distinct smell and taste, certainly, but _this_ particular mixture,” she grinned and shook the slop-jar, “tends to conceal even the strongest individual scents. Still, my supply had to go _somewhere_.”

Violet nodded, then looked around at her companions. “Shall we go see if we can confirm just where it went?”

So they marched out once more to the Gjegricg farm. Along the way, Violet fell back to walk with Edér, quietly relating what Anselm had said about the recurring soul-signature.

Edér frowned, his eyes narrowing as he glanced up at Anselm, now walking with Audie farther ahead. “Don’t see how that could be.”

“Wilfrith doesn’t have a grudge against the other farmers or anything you know of? Like...I don’t know, removing competition?”

“He’s the furthest thing from competitive I’ve ever seen,” Edér said with a wry chuckle. “Most of his profits go back into building the community, giving other farmers a hand up. And after all he’s been through, keeping the remnants of Eothas’ temple from dying out in Dyrford, I just can’t see him doing anything like this, Vi.”

“You’d know him best,” Violet nodded. Edér was silent for a bit after that, and Violet finally looked up to see him chewing at his lip, face scrunched up in thought. He flinched when her sudden poke at his arm startled him out of that thought. “Something wrong?” Violet asked.

Edér shrugged, then cleared his throat and leaned towards her with almost a guilty look, lowering his voice. “It’s just...considering your source. You sure you’re not trusting him too much, so soon?”

Violet’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Maybe you think he’s changed from before, but --”

“Let his actions show whether he has, Edér.”

“Right. And maybe he’s just saying this to impress you, to show off.”

“Well, even if he is,” Violet whispered, “how would it help his cause to impress me with false conclusions? Why make things up when the evidence is likely to prove him wrong?”

“I...I don’t know, Vi. I just don’t think you should trust him.”

Violet sighed in frustration. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about the betrothal. He’s part of this investigation now, and I need _all_ of us working together.” She glared up at him until he had to look away under the force of her disapproval.

“I’m sorry, Vi,” Edér said in a tone of contrition. “Just...don’t wanna see you hurt again.”

Violet reached for his hand, so that he would meet her eyes again, and fixed him with her best, most solemn priestly gaze. “I’m not even considering marrying him, you know. This isn’t a matter of the heart, it’s one of...well, putting faith into action. Everyone deserves a second chance, Edér.”

He blinked, then chuckled, the little laugh ending on a sigh. “Guess you’re right. I’ll, uh, try not to hate him. ’Less he gives me a real good reason to.”

“And if he’s right about Wilfrith?”

Edér’s face darkened. “Not sure that’s gonna make me like him any better, either.”

* * *

 

They arrived at the farm at midday. Wilfrith Gjegricg himself greeted them at the door, fresh not from chopping firewood this time but from the kitchen, and eagerly invited them to break bread. Violet, eager herself just to have this investigation over with, started to decline, but Gjegricg would have none of it. “You’ve not eaten yet? Too far to walk back to town, and company’s always welcome here.”

“There’s quite a few of us,” Violet began, glancing around at her entourage. “We wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“No inconvenience!” Gjegricg insisted. “Got a big pot of soup on. Me and the boy couldn’t eat it all in one sitting ourselves, anyway.”

“It’s this way every meal,” Edér whispered over Violet’s shoulder. “He’s big on hospitality. Always puts enough soup on to feed half the village, just in case they show.”

Thus the party found themselves, half an hour later, somewhat nervously gathered around the table of a suspected poisoner, looking for an opportunity to get to the bottom of that very suspicion. Preferably one that wouldn’t involve catching him, so to speak, red-handed. They exchanged anxious glances as Wilfrith and Eadric distributed soup and bread. They surreptitiously first sniffed at their food, then tested it with suspicious little bites, while their host talked on, oblivious to their caution, asking how their investigation was progressing. Violet’s responses gradually grew less vague and evasive, even as the guests’ bites grew bolder and bigger when calamity failed to follow their first tastes of the meal. Thus their guards were all somewhat lowered when the dessert course arrived, a sweet sticky bun that Eadric, still scowling, awkwardly slapped down onto each guest’s plate.

Violet, having been first served, was lifting the bun to her lips when Eadric came to Anselm, across the table from her. The cipher nodded politely as Eadric dropped the bun to his plate, then froze suddenly and looked up wide-eyed to Violet, shaking his head ever so slightly. She paused, lowering the bun to her plate again as Anselm’s eyes flickered to Eadric and then around the table. Seeing the others also now lifting their dessert, Anselm spoke, without the compulsion to their souls of his cipher powers but with all the weight of his accustomed authority as the favored son of an influential clan. “Wait.” And they did, all turning to him, Wilfrith as well, but Eadric shivered and slowly started backing away from the table.

“Anselm?” Violet prompted.

“I would not recommend eating that,” Anselm nodded to the bun on his own plate. “Violet...pardon me, but my conclusions which I discussed earlier with you seem to have been off. By one small degree.” And his glance flicked again to the boy, who was now nearly to the door leading down to the farmhouse’s cellar. Beside Xipil’s chair, Yaotl gave out a low whine.

Violet exchanged a glance with Edér, seated beside her, his expression confirming that he’d caught on at about the same time she had. At her grim nod, he launched from his chair and around the table toward the cellar door. Eadric was through the door by the time Edér, now followed by a train of orlans and one hound, got there. Wilfrith sat sputtering in surprise for a moment as they all disappeared down the cellar steps, then got to his feet and hurried in their wake.

They chased Eadric through the ancient passageways, finally cornering him in the chapel hidden among the catacombs. Edér barrelled through the doorway just as Eadric grabbed a handful of candles from the altar, their little flames flickering and half of them sputtering out before the boy slammed them down onto the weathered old tome of Eothasian prayers that lay open amidst the lights. “Wait!” Edér shouted, even as the boy, teeth bared and hands clenched in fists, turned to face him from across the altar with its book quickly catching fire. “Eadric, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Let it all burn!” the boy rasped in a voice not quite his own. “You want the light? I’ll show you light!”

As Edér tried to edge around the altar to get to him, Eadric grabbed more candles, first holding them out as if to fend Edér off, and then starting to fling them at him, one by one. Edér swore and ducked the little flames, which guttered out quickly on the stone floor if not in midflight. Then from behind him, a greater light suddenly glowed, and he felt a tingling warmth move through him as a ball of glowing energy, the timbre of a winter morning’s sun upon fresh snow, passed silently by with the aroma of icicles. At a glance he saw Violet behind him, palm out towards the altar, frowning in concentration while her siblings -- and of course Anselm -- fanned out to either side of the altar to help Edér intercept Eadric. Looking forward again, he saw the light she had projected, still in the rough form of a ball of energy but he could swear at its heart he saw a figure of light, crowned. As it moved over the altar, one candle after another winked out and the flames playing over the book finally died down, replaced by a layer of frost.

Eadric was staring agape at Violet’s slowly advancing projection, lit only dimly by the candles still burning along the walls of the chapel, when Edér finally leaped over the icy altar and tackled him to the stone floor.

* * *

 

“I just don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Wilfrith agonized for the dozenth time since Edér had carried the unconscious boy out of the catacombs and up to Eadric’s own bed. The seven adults now stood or sat in a tight cluster around the bed, waiting for him to recover.

“He’s always been a good lad,” Wilfrith continued, pacing. “Does his work. Gives me no more trouble than any lad might.” He paused to look over to Violet, wringing his hands. “Mayhap I’ve spoiled him, a bit. He’s all I have left of my Winifred, after all. And we were so glad to have him, a healthy child, his soul intact, just when babies in these parts were starting to be born...without.”

“Of course,” Violet said, not moving her eyes from the boy’s face. She didn’t _think_ the fall had given him a concussion, just knocked him out for a while. It was becoming a longer while than she liked, though.

“But it’s him, isn’t it?” Wilfrith moaned. “The one as poisoned all them animals.”

“I’m afraid so, Wilfrith,” Violet soothed.

“But why?” Wilfrith asked, echoing the thought at the top of all their minds.

Then the boy’s eyelids fluttered. With a sudden, shuddering gasp, Eadric woke. He moved as if to bolt upright, but Edér still held his shoulders firmly down. Eadric looked around at the group crowded around him, his eyes widening in terror. He shuddered again, and then burst into tears. Seated halfway down the bed, Yolotli took his hand and made soothing noises. In the doorway, Yaotl loosed a low growl and Xipil laid a hand on the dog’s ruff to calm him. Audie and Anselm laid hands to their weapons from either side of the bed and, with Edér, looked to Violet. The priest stepped forward to take Eadric’s other hand.

“All right, Eadric,” she began. “You’d best explain yourself.”

At first, only sobs. Then, the boy gasped out, “...wasn’t me.”

“It appears that it was,” Violet said, her voice quiet and firm but her hands gentle around the boy’s. “You’ve gone around poisoning animals, even your own pigs. Why?”

Gradually the sobs subsided and Eadric met her eyes, his own now red and swollen. “I...had to do something. Had to strike back. I ’membered...it was all so horrible. Soldiers of the crowned sun, marching over our lands, trying to take what they shouldn’t have. We tried to drive ’em off, but...I ’membered I fell. They cut me down with their god’s name on their lips, and I…” Another shuddering sob tore through him. “Ain’t right, anyone should say that name ’round here any more. Not even Da. Not even _me._ ” And he fell into sniffling tears again.

“Oh, sweet Eothas,” Violet murmured, despite the boy’s argument against such an invocation. She looked up into Edér’s eyes. “The boy’s Awakened.”

Wilfrith gasped. Violet glanced to him. “Didn’t you say he’d had some sort of trouble in the ruins? Hasn’t been the same since?”

The farmer nodded. “Well, yes, but...he still seemed himself. Just scared. What’s happened to him, Miz Violet?”

“Whatever scared him, it woke in him the memory of his soul’s past life.” She looked back to the boy and reached to smooth the tears from his eyes. “A very recent life, from the sound of it. Must have been a soldier, killed in the Saints’ War.”

Edér stirred. “You think...near here? The battle at Clîaban Rilag?”

“It seems likely.” Violet placed her hand over Edér’s, still resting on the boy’s shoulder though Eadric showed no sign now of struggling to escape. “Edér. Whoever he was, I don’t think he’d have known your brother. Fought against that side, it sounds like. Poor boy’s Awakened with quite the grudge against Eothasians.”

Edér nodded. “He...he was never violent, this kid. Like Wilfrith said. He’s a good worker, clever, quiet, and he used to love the chapel services as much as we did. Must be driving him crazy, remembering such a hate for everything his own family believes in.”

Wilfrith stepped in closer, laying a hand on the boy’s head, an agony of concern plain on his face. “Miz Violet,” he asked, “what are we to do? Is there any way to save him from this?”

Violet thought for a moment, frowning in concentration. “I never came across any way to undo an Awakening. I’m sorry.”

“Then...is there no hope?” Wilfrith whispered.

“I also,” said Violet arching one eyebrow with a slight smile, “happen to know a thing or two about _managing_ such a condition. Look, Wilfrith. Do you think the farm could spare the boy for a while? A season or two, maybe years if that’s what it takes?”

“I…” Wilfrith considered. “We’ll get by. Offered Uescwyn work, after all, and Edér’s a great help. But where would you take my boy?”

“I thought he might accompany us back to Caed Nua,” said Violet decisively, sitting up straight on the edge of the mattress as if on the throne in her own great hall. “We can occupy him with honest work there, and help him work through his Awakening under watchful eyes.”

“And...what about what he’s done here?” Wilfrith asked with obvious hesitation. “Surely there’s a price to pay for his crimes.”

“Sure,” Violet said. “But given that he was hardly in his right mind when he poisoned all those animals, I think his work at Caed Nua can be penance enough. And we’ll take restitution for the lost livestock out of his pay,” she added cheerfully.

“You don’t have to do that, milady,” Wilfrith shook his head. “Glad as we are you could help get to the bottom of all this, Dyrford’s not in Caed Nua’s jurisdiction. You don’t have to take responsibility for the losses.”

“Neither did you have to look out for Uescwyn when he lost all his sheep,” Violet grinned. “It’s what we do, Wilfrith. But you’re correct that this is not my jurisdiction. So I can pronounce no judgment here, but I leave the decision to you. My offer stands, if you wish to send the boy with me.”

Wilfrith considered for a long moment, stroking his son’s hair. Then Eadric looked up to Violet and asked, “Does it...ever go away? The dreams? The voice in my head?”

Violet thought of the Inquisition’s wheels in her own dreams, of Iselmyr’s voice in Aloth’s head, of Maneha’s yearning to forget. “No, dear,” she admitted. “It doesn’t. But it doesn’t have to be all so horrible, either. And at Caed Nua you wouldn’t have to face it alone.”

He turned to his father and pleaded, “Da.”

Wilfrith nodded. “All right. He’ll go with you.”


	5. Godandag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming. Resolutions: To the problem of Eadric and the affections growing unmarked.

They set out for Caed Nua that same day, their packs loaded down with jars of leftover soup (though none of the sticky buns, which had all gone into the fire when Eadric admitted to having laced them with poison when he realized the investigation might be on to him). The boy walked with them nervously at first, his head down and shoulders hunched. As it became apparent, however, that they weren’t going to treat him harshly or match the hatred that had come over him and driven him to his spate of poisonings, Eadric warmed to them. He was quick to make himself useful when they stopped for food or drink and to camp that night, though Violet made sure he never went off unaccompanied when fetching water from a stream, or even when nature called. They all remained wary, watching for signs of any relapse of the Awakened personality that had caused such trouble, but for now that bitter life stayed quiet, while Eadric earnestly did as he was bid.

That evening, Edér glanced up from the firepit he was digging when the sound of Vi’s light laughter caught his attention. He saw her across their camp site, smiling in response to something Anselm had just said. They were setting up tents, along with Yolotli, while Edér and Audie prepared to cook whatever game Xipil had gone out into the woods to hunt. Edér paused in his task, watching Vi laugh, and shake her head, and teasingly swat at Anselm’s arm while he grinned back at her.

Edér scowled. It was a familiar grin, he thought. He’d grinned that foolishly, that warmly himself every time he could make her laugh. But it was ridiculous, wasn’t it, to begrudge that laughter to anyone else? She had a right to laugh if she wanted. He had no claim to reserve her joy for himself. And he had to admit, however grudgingly, that Anselm had proved himself on this expedition. Anyway, he was glad for Vi to find peace from her memories of her betrothal, of course he was.

Still, it hurt more, seeing her laugh at that moment, across the camp from him, than it reasonably should.

Turning back toward the firepit, he saw Audie’s sharp eyes on him. She watched him, shrewd as a cipher herself even without any actual glimpses into his soul, and he felt his face grow warm. When she seemed about to speak, Edér got to his feet in a hurry. “Gonna need more firewood,” he blurted, glancing around and spotting Eadric hovering nearby. “Hey, kid. C’mon, let’s go see what we can find.”

He allowed himself one quick glance back before they hit the tree line. Audie was still watching him, smirking smugly now. And Vi was still busy with the tent, but before the trees hid her from his view she glanced up and met Edér’s eyes with a smile that sent his heart fluttering again.

He was still pondering that flutter several minutes and half an armful of firewood later, when Eadric spoke up. Soft-spoken when not being controlled by his vengeful past life, the boy had to call Edér’s name twice to get his attention.

“Sorry,” Edér mumbled. “What’s up, kid?”

Eadric grimaced and held up his -- quite full -- bundle of firewood. “Don’t think I can carry anymore.”

Edér nodded. “Right. Here, give me yours and...we’ll keep going for a bit. Don’t really wanna head back just yet.”

“Are you angry at the Watcher?” Eadric asked.

Edér almost dropped his augmented load of firewood. “What?”

“It’s just, you’ve hardly talked to her since we left Dyrford. Usually when she visits, you follow her around like a lost puppy.”

“Huh.” Edér glared at the boy’s sly grin. “Well, she’s got old friends and family to talk to now. I’m not angry. Just giving her space. We...might’ve argued a bit, earlier today. Think she had the right of it, though.”

“Oh,” Eadric nodded, already plotting a course from one fallen branch to the next, rebuilding his armful of firewood. “So she’s angry at you.”

“She’s not --” Edér frowned in thought. “Well, guess she could be. Don’t think so, though. Said I was sorry.”

A pause. “Okay,” Eadric muttered, and then silently went back to his gathering.

Edér watched him for a moment. “Okay what?” he finally asked, setting down his load with a grin and reaching for his pipe. “You look like a boy with a lot on his mind.”

“Like a whole ‘nother mind?” Eadric shot back.

“Fair point,” Edér chuckled. “That’s it, huh? Worrying about this Awakening thing?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Edér considered for the space of three long draws on the pipe. “Suppose I would. Maybe not as much as you think, though. Seen it happen with my friends enough, at least I’d know I wasn’t alone.” He laughed. “Course, depending on the Awakening, that could be kinda literal. Knew a guy who --” He broke off, narrowing his eyes at Eadric’s hungry look. “Never mind. Got a feeling your old self ain’t near as good company as Iselmyr. Anyway, kid, thing is, what’s happened to you is rare, right?” He waited for Eadric’s hesitant nod before going on. “Not many souls Awaken. Guess not all of ‘em can. Seems it takes a really strong soul to remember anything from before the Wheel. And the way I look at it, that’s good news for you. Now you know you got a strong soul, and that means you can get through this. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Eadric glanced down, fidgeting with the firewood in his arms as he thought this through. After a time, Edér put out his pipe, picked up his own armload, and turned back toward camp.

A moment later, Eadric caught up with him. “You think Miz Violet can help?”

“Course she can. She went through all this not long ago. And we’ve known a few others who did, too. Vi won’t give up on you.”

“So she has a strong soul, too.”

“Yep.”

“Must be really, really strong.” Edér could hear the smirk in the boy’s voice, but he took the bait nonetheless.

“Like no one else I know,” he said. “Look, Eadric. See that tree, yonder?” He nodded at a gnarled old oak looming over the rest of the forest. “Before I met Vi, I was convinced I was next in line to be hanged on a tree like that back home. Didn’t try to run away or fight it or anything. Then this orlan girl shows up, staring at that tree like her soul’s left her body, and changes everything. Gave me back my life. My faith. My purpose.” He swallowed, and swung a hand free from the firewood to briefly ruffle Eadric’s hair. “Don’t you worry. You’re in good hands.”

Eadric giggled and ducked out of reach. “She’s real pretty, too,” he pointed out with a smug grin. “For an orlan, anyway.”

“Hey,” Edér returned the grin. “You take that back. She’s real pretty for _anything_.” And then froze, hearing himself, hearing the echoes in his soul. Seeing Eadric’s grin grow broader with knowing. “Just, ah...don’t tell her I said so?”

“Not a word,” Eadric shook his head solemnly. Then the grin returned as he swung even further out of Edér’s reach to add, “Long as you tell her first!” and went racing back toward camp.

Edér groaned and followed, dreading what mischief the boy -- either version of that boy -- might enact before he caught up. But he returned to a camp looking totally normal, the tents all in place, the fire in the firepit blazing away as Eadric added to its fuel, Xipil and his sisters speedily dressing the hares he had caught, while Yaotl hovered nearby to gobble up the scraps. Violet, tossing the hound one such scrap, beamed up at Edér, and he smiled back a little more shyly than usual, setting down the firewood while he considered how and when best to admit that somewhere over the years, he seemed to have fallen for his dearest friend, the one who’d given him back his life, his faith, his purpose, and that it had nonetheless taken the goading of a psychopathically Awakened preteen to make him realize it. The growing ease between Violet and Anselm only complicated things. Any moment now, she might be betrothed all over again and beyond Edér’s reach.

* * *

 

After they had finished eating, Violet sat Eadric down by the fire. “I’d like to have a look at your soul,” she said without prelude.

Eadric fidgeted, seeming to shrink under her gaze. “Is it gonna hurt?”

She smiled. “You won’t feel a thing.”

He swallowed. “Will you see...who I was?”

“I hope so,” she said. “But it’s random glimpses, most of the time. It may not show us anything useful. But there’s a chance it can help.”

Eadric nodded, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Edér, hovering near the boy, both for moral support and just in case Eadric got a notion to snitch on their conversation in the woods, saw the familiar and still disturbing vacant look settle over Vi’s features as she took the boy’s hands and began to stare not so much at him as straight through him. After all these years, the sight still made him shiver and fight the urge to shake her awake from her Watcher’s trance.

It was a new sight to their companions. The orlans drifted closer to the scene, exchanging worried glances as the minutes stretched on in eerie silence.

“Is she all right?” Yolotli was the first to whisper, turning wide eyes up to Edér.

“Sure,” he said brightly, mustering confidence to his voice but keeping his eyes fixed on Vi for the moment he feared, the moment when she wasn’t. “You get used to it.”

By the time Violet finally drew a sharp breath and leaned back, releasing Eadric’s hands, she was surrounded by her kin, sisters to each side of her and Xipil standing silently behind them, hands lightly on Violet’s shoulders. Edér had taken a seat next to Eadric, and Anselm crept in on the boy’s other side. Violet blinked and looked around at the huddled group with a chuckle. “You’d think you’d never seen a Watcher before.”

“That,” said Yolotli, eyes wide, clasping her hands in delight, “was _creepy._ ”

“Don’t,” said Audie, gripping Violet’s hand and making a face at her, “do that again.”

“I don’t always get the option,” Violet said with a shrug.

“Did you learn anything?” asked Anselm.

Violet shook her head. “Not much we hadn’t guessed already. I saw a soldier, indeed. He seemed to be suiting up for some sort of night raid. The last I saw, he was stirring some mixture over a cookfire, then dipping his blades in it.” She glanced up at Eadric. “The art of preparing your poisons seems to have come with the Awakening.”

Eadric gave a slow, nervous nod. “Never done it before that, anyway.”

“If this soldier was so bent on revenge when he Awakened,” put in Anselm, “it makes sense he’d reach for a weapon familiar to him. Er...in that lifetime, anyway.”

“And accessible enough to Eadric, once he had the knowledge of it,” Violet nodded. She reached out and patted the boy’s hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see anything more helpful than that.”

“Least we know to keep anything poisonous locked away for the time being,” Edér teased.

Violet grinned. “For a start. But, I don’t know, maybe we can help this soldier find peace, somehow, and forego his vengeance. The Saint’s War left its marks deep on many in the Dyrwood,” she met Edér’s eyes for a brief moment before fixing her gaze back on Eadric, “but we honor our god now not in conquest, but in renewal of those so marked. Eothas cannot be truly gone from the world so long as we are his hands and his light is in our actions.”

Eadric nodded thoughtfully, but Violet looked up to see Edér grinning wide. Eyebrow arched, she asked, “What?”

“Just realized,” he said, “it’s Godandag tomorrow. Sounds like you’ve got your sermon all ready.”

Violet huffed a laugh. “We’ll be on the road all day tomorrow. I’ll practice it on you lot.”

* * *

 

They reached Caed Nua early the next afternoon. Assorted clanfolk gathered to witness the adventuring party’s arrival, clamoring to hear how things had gone, until Violet shooed them all away and instructed everyone -- family as well as the keep’s hirelings -- to prepare a proper feast in celebration of their success, further details of which could wait until dinner was ready.

Audie raised an eyebrow at this. “A feast?”

Violet shrugged. “With this many houseguests, every dinner might as well be a feast. Anyway, we still have business to conclude before we answer questions.” She glanced towards Eadric, who had managed to go mostly overlooked in the swarm of orlans by creeping closer to Edér, and now stood half-hidden in the man’s shadow. “I’ll have to figure out arrangements for you, first thing. I don’t intend to lock you up and treat you as a prisoner, but until we’re sure your Awakened memories aren’t going to cause trouble here, you’ve got to be under supervision.”

Edér’s hand came down on the boy’s shoulder, making him jump and then look up, wide-eyed, from Edér back to Violet. “I’ll keep an eye on him for now, Vi,” Edér offered. “There’s still room in the barracks, and he could use a familiar face.”

Violet smiled with relief. “That’ll do. Thank you, dear Edér.”

And with that, the party divided, the orlans turning weary feet toward Brighthollow before Violet could see the look that crossed Edér’s face at the endearment, or hear Eadric’s snickering as his new chaperone tugged him away toward the keep.

* * *

 

As Violet and Audie were unpacking their bags a little while later in the Watcher’s quarters, a knock at the door they’d left open drew their eyes to Anselm standing in the doorway, hands tucked behind his back. “Violet,” he began. “May I have a word?”

Violet exchanged a glance with her sister. Audie gave the tiniest shrug and stepped closer to her, until Anselm added, “In private, if that’s all right.”

Violet hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Of course. Audie --”

“I’ll be down the hall,” Audie said, speaking to Violet but fixing Anselm with a look that made the threat clear.

When Violet had closed the door behind her sister, Anselm brought out from behind his back a cluster of small, golden flowers and somewhat sheepishly held them out to her. “I’d been meaning to give you these, but an opportunity did not present itself during our journey.”

“Pilgrim’s Crown!” Violet exclaimed. “It’s lovely, Anselm. Hard to find in the Dyrwood.”

“I thought it might remind you of home,” he smiled as she took the flowers. “They used to look so merry in your hair. I’d have made a proper garland of them, but these few were all I could find in Dyrford.”

Violet’s gaze fell from the bouquet to the floor. “Anselm, maybe...I shouldn’t accept these. What you came here seeking...I can’t…”

He put out a hand as if to stop her from returning the flowers. “I know.”

“What?” She met his eyes again.

“I was thinking, actually, you might see fit to pass them on to someone else,” he grinned. “Violet, I’ll admit I came here thinking you might give me a second chance. And that, initially, I anticipated that taking the form of a renewed betrothal. But…” He reached toward her but hesitated, his hand halfway toward her face, and then tucked both hands behind his back again, without ever breaking eye contact. “That was never meant to be, was it?”

Violet could only stare at him in surprise.

Anselm continued, “I cannot express deeply enough my appreciation for the second chance you _have_ given me. It was good to see you again, and to assist you in my way.”

Violet blinked. “It...You know what? It _was_ good, wasn’t it? I’m glad you came along.”

Anselm smiled. “Anyway, I owe you many an apology for how I treated you, before.”

“True,” said Violet, but with a smile all genuine, free of malice. “And thank you. For the flowers, too.”

He nodded and, after an awkward pause, took his leave of her with a slight bow. As he turned to go, she called after him, “Anselm?” He glanced back at her. “A few days ago you seemed quite determined to persuade me. What changed your mind?”

His eyes drifted from her face to a point just over her shoulder, his gaze going distant for a moment. “It was too much for me,” he finally said, with a shrug, “to contest with the bond you’ve already formed.”

“What?” Violet frowned in puzzlement.

“I promise I wasn’t trying to read your mind,” Anselm grinned. “Nor _his._ But for my eyes, it was rather hard to miss the connection between your souls. It’s actually rather charming, the way you light up like a firefly in his presence. That was when I realized I was ready to let you go, in fact -- when I found that simply _charming_ , and not a threat to my own aims.” He shrugged, his smile growing warmer. “I am happy for you both, truly. It’s a bold choice, Violet, but you always were one to be bold in your convictions. You have my support, should your family object. And...I don’t know if lovers exchange Pilgrim’s Crown here, as we used to back home, but you might give him those anyway.” He nodded to the bouquet now drooping from her hand, slack at her side as she processed his words. “Lacking a cipher’s eyes, he might need a clearer hint of your affections.” And with a wink, he departed.

In his wake he left a wide-eyed Watcher, staring at the golden flowers in her hands as she worked out what Anselm had meant. Clearly he wasn’t speaking of himself, or of her brother; and that only left…

Minutes later, Audie returned to find Violet sitting on the edge of her bed, staring straight ahead, clutching a handful of Pilgrim’s Crown blossoms to her chest.

“Violy?” she prompted, grasping her sister’s shoulder. “Violet, is everything all right? If Anselm won’t let you be --”

With a tiny gasp, Violet met her sister’s eyes. “Anselm? Oh -- no, no, he’s fine. He’s a gem, Audie. Audie? Have you...ah. Have you seen Edér around, by chance?”

Audie tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at her sister. “He’s at the keep, I assume, getting Eadric settled. You gave him a bed in the barracks, right?”

“Oh. I did, yes. I -- wait, no, that won’t do --” She was up and pacing about the room.

Audie’s eyes tracked her back and forth. Finally she put her hands on her hips and demanded Violet’s attention with an impatient little cough. “Vi, what’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve got to see him,” Violet muttered, tucking the flowers into a pocket and reaching for a pen on her writing-table. “Audie,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by her hair swinging into her face as she bent to scribble a note, “be a dear and find Edér and give him this, will you?”

Audie frowned as she took the scrap of paper. “Don’t tell me you’re sending him off without saying goodbye or something.”

“What? No! It’s -- oh, go on, Audie, just read it. And then go find him, please.”

So Audie did, glancing over the scribbles briefly while Violet darted out the door and down the stairs. Audie was a fast reader; she assumed her sister was still within earshot by the time she finished reading and, her grin spreading wide, shouted after her: “It’s about damn time!”

* * *

 

Edér’s steps slowed as he neared the end of the stair, and he hesitated at the chapel door. He reached for the note in his pocket but stopped short of bringing it out to read once more. Outside of the chapel, there wasn’t much light for reading; and, anyway, he’d read it over enough times since Audie passed him the note and took over his supervision of Eadric that another glance was hardly needed. Wasn’t much there, anyway, and it all pretty much came down to _Dear Edér, I need to speak with you. I’ll be in our chapel. Vi._

Still wondering what sort of conversation required staging in _their_ chapel -- the little, half-secret one that he and Violet had built down in the Paths of Od Nua, the first thing she’d done when they got home from saving the world, devoting the heart of her keep to Eothas in defiance both of the Purges and of the secrets Iovara had inflicted upon the Watcher at the end -- with a deep breath, he eased the door quietly open and eased it shut again behind him.

Violet was there already, seated on the floor with her back to the altar. Her knees were drawn up before her, her elbows perched on them, her hands clasped as if in prayer, her chin bowed to her hands. He paused in the doorway for a moment just to take in the sight of her, limned with the light of the candles. Then he approached as quietly as he knew how -- then not so quietly, belatedly realizing he’d rather not startle her -- and slid to sit beside her. On the way down he noticed, amidst the candles, a scattering of flowers on the altar, golden in the candlelight -- or perhaps in their own native hue?

She glanced up and smiled at his presence. “Hey,” Edér grinned. “Got your note.”

“Right,” she nodded quickly, “good. That’s good.” Between her clasped hands, she fidgeted with another of the flowers like he’d seen on the altar.

Edér shifted in his seat and said, “So, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes,” Vi nodded. “But not with Eadric around, so I -- Oh! Eadric!” She looked up at him in sudden distress. “I forgot -- if you’re down here, you’re not watching him and --”

Edér chuckled and reached for her hand, sparing the flower from imminent dismemberment. “Hey. No need to worry about the kid. Audie took charge of him when she brought your note. Bet he’s missing me right now, as Audie pries all his secrets from him.”

“Probably,” Vi laughed, and once again Edér’s heart warmed at the sound. Then his face warmed at the thought of secrets Eadric might be all too glad to share with Vi’s sister. Better get it out now, then, before either of them saw Vi again.

“So,” he started, “I, uh…”

“I talked to Anselm,” Vi said while Edér was still gathering his thoughts.

He froze for a moment with the paralyzing fear that this was all for nothing, that she’d gone and accepted Anselm’s suit while Edér missed all his opportunities; then he answered, only half joking, “Am I gonna need to kill him? Won’t unless you say so, I promise.”

She laughed again. “Oh, no, you’d better not. It was a friendly chat in which we agreed _not_ to marry each other, and parted as...I guess as friends.”

Edér felt a layer of tension go out of his muscles with relief. “Really?”

“Really.”

“So you’re a free woman now,” he grinned.

“As much as I ever was,” she mused. “Free of marrying Anselm, anyway.”

“Guess I can stop hating him now,” Edér teased. But instead of the indignantly amused reaction he expected to answer that, Violet just looked at him very thoughtfully.

“Edér,” she finally asked, her voice near a whisper, “do you...did you ever think of...of getting married?”

“Watcher Violet,” he answered without a moment’s thought, smirking, “you asking me for my hand?” And then, for a moment, regretted not thinking that one through so as not to reveal his heart too quickly.

In the next moment, though, as Violet stuttered out a “Not -- I mean -- you know, just in general? I mean, I -- that is, you’re --”, Edér saw the twitching of her ears and the blush visible even in the candlelight and recognized something familiar in her widening eyes. He studied her with a shrewd eye and rising hope as she babbled on, breaking away from his gaze to stare at the flower in her hands, “I have to tell you -- that is, do you -- I would understand if you don’t, maybe it’s too much to hope for, but I --” And in that moment he threw caution to the wind, thinking vaguely, _Ah, to Hel with it. She’s my friend, at least, and if she doesn’t love me back, she’ll still_ love _me even if this ends up being totally embarrassing._

“Vi,” he said, taking her hands between his own, “if you’re trying to work out how to say you’re in love with me, I’m gonna beat you to it and say that I’m in love with you too.”

She stared at him, lips rounding in a silent _Oh!_ as understanding dawned, and finally, with a slow smile, whispered, “Really?”

“Really,” he said.

“Oh, gods,” she shook her head. “Dear Edér. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this. I’ve been betrothed all my life. I never had to work out how to _tell_ someone this.” Then suddenly she launched herself into his ready embrace, clinging to his chest, her voice somewhat muffled as she added, “But I _do_ love you, you dear, ridiculous, kind-hearted, sweet-spirited, faithful, _beautiful_ man.”

Edér’s fingers found their way through her long curls as his throat tightened for a moment. When he could speak again, he said, “Think you worked it out just fine, Vi. That’s...quite a list.”

She tilted her head back to smile up at him. “All true. I don’t know how I didn’t realize sooner how much you mean to me. I do believe I’ve taken you for granted.”

Edér nodded. “I know, me too. Only realized it when Eadric started teasing me about my, ah, crush on you.”

Violet giggled. “ _Anselm_ had to point it out to me. Oh, and he advised me to give you these.” She smirked and reached up to place the flower she’d been holding behind Edér’s ear. “There. Perfect.”

“ _Anselm?_ ” Edér echoed, aghast.

“It’s a cipher thing.” She laughed and reached to the altar for another of the little golden flowers to weave into his hair. “Apparently he sensed such a bond between our souls that he gave up on trying to woo me for himself.” She considered the effect of her work with a smug smile, then reached to the altar again.

Edér considered this while he reached for a flower himself to return the favor, twisting it into the braid that crowned her head and kept the curls in line. “That strong a bond, and we never noticed it?”

“We called it friendship,” she shrugged.

“Think it’s more than friendship now,” he said, tracing a finger along her braid and admiring the flower’s effect before reaching to the altar for another to add to the crown.

“I should hope so,” she grinned.

“Vi,” he said, combing his fingers lightly through her hair as he tucked in another flower, “can I kiss you?”

In answer, she only smiled and went up on her knees to reach for him. Even so, he still had to bend to reach her, but the result, he reflected, as he met her lips in a kiss as slow and sweet and soft as the years it had taken them to pursue it, would be worth the backaches likely to develop if they made a habit of this.

That was a habit he would cultivate with joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh but wait there's more...epilogue coming right up!


	6. Epilogue

Gentle teasing from their travel companions (and a few other kinfolk who had eyes in their heads enough to have noticed what the lovers themselves could not see) congratulated Violet and Edér when they showed up to dinner that night, hand in hand and with bits of Pilgrim’s Crown still woven in their hair. The orlans of the Ixamitl Plains knew, after all, what a garland of those flowers signified.

Much more such teasing, along with a considerable number of objections from a few members of Clan Itzli, attended them throughout the next week of the orlans’ visit to Caed Nua. Garivald, who had indeed hoped Violet would return home with Anselm and honor their parents’ contract for her betrothal, argued longest and loudest against this turn of events, feeling that he should not return home without his pilgrim sister. He was eventually outvoted by Audrisa, who declared that if Gar was going to be such a bore about a betrothal that had died years ago, she’d be glad to trade him for a new,  _ human _ brother. Garivald pointed out that Violet wasn’t actually  _ marrying _ the Dyrwoodan -- was she? Audie’s lack of a clear answer to this had Garivald daily appealing to Violet about the impropriety of such an alliance, until Anselm, true to his word, stepped in to assure Garivald that the betrothal was moot as far as both he and Violet were concerned, and she could marry or merely consort with whomever she damned well pleased.

Violet, meanwhile, stayed as far away as she could from most of these arguments. Not unlike the last time she had stirred up such a debate in the family by following her heart, she withdrew often to the chapel in the Paths of Od Nua, sometimes in silent and solitary prayer, sometimes seizing an opportunity to steal Edér away from the world above for a time.

Edér, when not with Violet, had his psychopathically Awakened preteen to supervise. Eadric’s soldier-self flared to life again twice before the Ixamitlan guests departed. He eluded Edér one night after dinner, and an all-hands-on-deck search turned Caed Nua upside down looking for him. When he could not be found on the premises, Xipil and Yaotl tracked him all through the night, catching up with the boy cowering and weeping, returned to his own mind, in the woods not far from Caed Nua. Under the soldier’s influence, Eadric seemed to have done no harm this time -- no telltale poisonings or other inexplicable mischief -- but the experience shook him once again. Desperate for redemption, still pained with the remorse of his crimes against the Eothasians of Dyrford, he begged the Watcher to let him train with her as an acolyte. Cautiously, she permitted this, but kept her new student under close supervision still, always with Edér or Violet or one of her kin. 

The second time Eadric’s Awakened self flared up, Yolotli was his chaperone. Curious as ever, and generally incapable of believing the worst of anyone, she somehow persuaded the soldier to reveal his name (Dreogan) and most of his life story (he’d lost a wife and two children to plague before he fell in battle himself, and seemed inclined to hold the Readcerans responsible for that too; he’d worshiped at the temple of Berath in Dyrford Village, and had preceded Hendyna as the area’s premier apothecary for the previous generation). Since Eadric’s arrival at Caed Nua, Dreogan had been somewhat mollified to see less evidence of Eothas-worship than with the boy’s father, until Eadric had entered training in the hidden chapel and defied his past life’s vengeance by trying to return to his family’s faith more staunchly than before. Yolotli cheerfully assured Dreogan that while Eadric might choose to follow Eothas, Caed Nua had a chapel for the other gods at which he was welcome when Dreogan felt a need to assert himself. She insisted on showing him to this chapel (though of course Eadric himself was already familiar enough with it) and from there, leading him along on a full tour of the fortress, questioning him relentlessly and enthusiastically the whole time, until a very overwhelmed and bemused Dreogan simply relinquished control, for the time being, to Eadric.

Clan Itzli bid farewell again to Violet about a week after the party’s return from Dyrford, setting out once more on the long journey back to the Ixamitl Plains with promises to write and to visit again soon, though perhaps in smaller groups. But they returned smaller in number than they had arrived, leaving a few of the visitors behind in a more permanent capacity.

To Anselm, whose cipher skills had indeed proved useful, Violet offered a place at Caed Nua as her chief investigator, to fill the void left by the slaughter of most of the ciphers of Hadret House during the riots in Defiance Bay. Surprised, but honored, and also relieved not to spend the next year butting heads with Garivald over the reversal of the betrothal, Anselm readily accepted.

Yolotli chose to stay at Caed Nua mostly out of curiosity about Dreogan, who had not as yet come out to play with her again. It is possible, of course, that the library of Caed Nua played a role in her decision as well. Violet was thrilled to keep her sister close, especially if it would help keep Eadric’s Awakening in line. As a bonus, of course, that meant Xipil would stay too, content to wander wherever his twin wandered.

Audie insisted that she was staying to make sure that Edér behaved himself and treated her sister right, but since that was hardly in question, the real reason was likely just that she did not care to say goodbye again so soon to her favorite sister. Violet soon put her sister to work as Caed Nua’s Seneschal, who rivaled its Steward for her ability to get things done quickly, not least because she benefited from having feet.

As these permanent guests settled into life at the keep, Edér returned to juggling his obligations to the Night Market, to Gjegricg’s farm, and most of all, to the Watcher he soon took to affectionately calling his “Tiny Sweetheart.” If he spent more of his time at Caed Nua than before, neither Gjegricg nor any other contact in the Night Market seemed to object. Their priest -- and her young acolyte -- began to make more frequent visits, along with Edér, to Eothas’ followers outside of Caed Nua, after all, so it was a fair trade.

And all this time, back in the Ixamitl Plains, in the hometown of Clans Itzli and Coatl, there remained a contract of betrothal, still legally binding upon both families despite the betrothed offspring’s repudiation of it….But that is a problem for another day.

**Author's Note:**

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